


under the same sky

by katierosefun



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Afterlife, Anakin Skywalker Gets a Hug, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Apologies, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, Reunited and It Feels So Good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:34:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29264373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katierosefun/pseuds/katierosefun
Summary: “Why are you here?” he asked. His voice didn’t echo this time.Obi-Wan’s expression softened.“Why do you think?” he asked. “I’ve come to take you home.”[or: Anakin and Obi-Wan after Return of the Jedi.]
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 15
Kudos: 222





	under the same sky

**Author's Note:**

> title is taken from the song [where are u by joon jung young](https://open.spotify.com/track/0yrOjqiULswrvp6GbVls1g?si=9PGhKZfyRNKOUGX2JJbJfA), which i listened to on repeat while finishing this fic last night--but also, if anyone is interested in non-korean songs to set the mood, i also listened to my ['see you on the other side' playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0bt4IqxfSVBvXiCondRwfz?si=69EvijY1Ttu4nkR741nPgg), which was literally made for this whole fic--

When he died, he thought he couldn’t breathe.

Which probably made sense—he was _dead_ , his physical lungs probably didn’t need to function anyways. His _heart_ didn’t need to function anyways, and yet, when Anakin opened his eyes, his chest hurt, and his lungs still felt like they were full of something that was not-air.

Anakin coughed, jerking up to a sitting position. Air—there was real air, real oxygen—or _no_ , not real air and not real oxygen, because he was _dead_ , he knew he was dead, because he remembered letting go, and he remembered a pair of sad blue eyes guiding him out.

Anakin’s chest hurt, and this time, it had nothing to do with the fact that he was still trying to get used to…breathing. (If he could even call it that. He didn’t know what to call it at all.)

Anakin stood up slowly. Now that he could breathe— _again, if he could even call it that_ —he could just only start to get his bearings. Register the darkness around him.

He blinked a few times, trying to make sense of any shapes that might emerge.

Nothing.

Anakin stepped forward—a tentative, slow step, and one that, for once, didn’t send pain up his spine. He looked down at his feet—or what he could make out of them in the darkness, anyways—in quiet wonder.

He took another step.

Another.

He was dimly aware of the sound of his own footsteps now. From the way they were, he could guess that he was in…an open space. A wide space. He wasn’t sure how wide.

Anakin walked forward.

“Hello?”

His throat didn’t burn now, either. Where it had once been so difficult to speak—where there had once been breathing apparatuses and all kinds of mechanisms to help him speak and breathe, there were none. Just himself.

“Hello?” Anakin repeated.

His voice echoed back.

Anakin was surprised by how young he sounded, even to his own ears.

Young and alone.

He was alone.

Anakin stopped in his tracks.

He lifted his head up to— _was there even a sky? Or was this a ceiling? Or was there nothing at all?_ —darkness. Empty, empty darkness that seemed to stretch for miles and miles and miles.

Anakin’s throat tightened.

“Oh,” he said quietly.

\--

He could have been sitting there for hours or minutes or seconds—Anakin wasn’t entirely sure. But the longer he stayed put, the darker and darker the space seemed to grow around him.

He stood up eventually, attempted to walk around. He wasn’t sure if he was getting anywhere though. Anakin strained to listen to his steps, see if he could make out at least the dimensions of the place he was in, but there was nothing.

At one point, Anakin thought he heard something. A whisper.

\--

Anakin didn’t know how long he had kept his eyes closed, but when he opened them, he heard footsteps.

Quiet, steady footsteps.

At first, Anakin wasn’t sure if he was actually hearing things correctly: maybe _he_ was the one actually walking around, and he was just so lost in this space that he didn’t even know it yet.

But the footsteps were growing louder now, and suddenly, there—just some distance away, _light_.

Anakin blinked a few times, watching as the air seemed to shimmer and weave in steady whites, then soft blues. A vaguely familiar light, one that Anakin remembered from a different time, in a different place, back when he felt almost just as lost.

He stayed still as the light grew brighter, the footsteps louder.

Anakin caught movement in the corner of his eye. He turned around, but there was nothing there—but above— _above_ —

Anakin’s breath caught.

He found little pinpricks of light. So many, some brighter than others, all of them different colors. Whites, blues, greens, purples, yellows. Light where there probably shouldn’t have been any.

The footsteps stopped.

Somehow, even before turning back around, Anakin knew who he would find.

Still, when he saw Obi-Wan, he didn’t say anything.

Obi-Wan didn’t say anything either. Even in the ghostly blue light, his eyes were as intent as ever, and Anakin wasn’t sure if he wanted to run or stay.

He stayed.

As though recognizing Anakin’s decision, a corner of Obi-Wan’s lips twitched.

Anakin almost wished he hadn’t seen that.

“Why are you here?” he asked. His voice didn’t echo this time.

Obi-Wan’s expression softened.

“Why do you think?” he asked. “I’ve come to take you home.”

 _Home_.

Obi-Wan held out his hand, and Anakin suddenly felt as though he were a child again—and a moment later, he realized that was exactly what he was: a child, so much shorter and smaller, and Obi-Wan without his beard now, Obi-Wan with close-cropped hair and a Padawan braid still gently swaying by his ear.

“Come along,” Obi-Wan said softly. “We can’t be late.”

Anakin stared at Obi-Wan’s hand.

\--

They walked for some time. Sometimes, Anakin would look to his side, and sometimes he would find Obi-Wan back in his Padawan days—and other times, he found Obi-Wan back in the days right before the war, with longer hair and fewer lines on his face. Other times, he found Obi-Wan back in the days during the war: neater beard, neater hair, just the faintest of wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. The last time, he found Obi-Wan with white hair, a lined face, the still-kind eyes.

Anakin stayed the same. Hand still tucked in Obi-Wan’s, feet echoing after his as the dark faded and the lights around them grew in intensity and number.

“How much farther?” Anakin asked at last.

“Only a little farther,” Obi-Wan replied.

Anakin looked forward. At the very end, he could see where the darkness stopped—where it seemed to war against the glowing brightness at the far, far end, right where the light seemed to suck the rest of the darkness out.

With each step growing closer, he could catch more and more of the light until he realized that his eyes were watering, not because of anything he felt, but because it _hurt_ —and his feet were growing tired, because he couldn’t remember the last time he had walked this long or stood this long, and he didn’t even know how long they had been standing and walking anyways, and suddenly everything was too much, like the fact that Obi-Wan was still leading him along, and the light was—

“Stop,” Anakin whispered.

Obi-Wan kept walking.

“Stop,” Anakin repeated, louder this time. “Stop— _stop_ —”

He tore his hand out of Obi-Wan’s, backed away a few steps just as Obi-Wan turned around to look at him.

“Anakin?” He was wearing the face that he had worn as a still-Padawan-not-yet-Knight. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s—you—this—” Anakin’s voice came out too high-pitched, too drawn-out. Too young. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“What are you talking about?” Obi-Wan frowned. “Anakin—wait— _wait, no_ —”

But Anakin was already turning around, running. Running as hard as he could, arms pumping at his sides and breath—hard, tight breaths—coming out so fast out of his chest, and he couldn’t hear anything except the roar of blood in his head, and he wasn’t sure if he even had blood anymore or this was even his head or even if this was his _body_ , but he knew that he had to get away—

“Anakin!”

Obi-Wan’s voice wasn’t as far away as it had been a moment ago. Obi-Wan’s voice was suddenly in Anakin’s ringing around his head, and Anakin stopped short, clapped his hands over his ears, dropped to his knees.

“No!” Anakin shouted. He brought his forehead down to his lap, hands still closed firmly over his ears. “Get _out_ —”

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice wasn’t in Anakin’s head anymore. It was above him, next to him. Anakin felt warmth settle beside him, knew that it belonged to Obi-Wan. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t—there’s _too much_ —” Anakin closed his eyes tight, tightened his grip over his own head. He was breathing too hard. Heart beating too hard. “I— _you_.”

Obi-Wan paused beside him. “What do you mean?”

“What’s wrong,” Anakin said. He jerked his head out of his hands, found Obi-Wan at his side. No longer the still-a-Padawan-yet-turned-Knight face—but the still-in-the-war face, the one that Anakin had been the most familiar with. The one that had greeted Anakin only seconds or minutes or days ago.

Anakin’s throat dried, and when he looked down, he realized that he had grown too. No longer a small boy, but the body that he remembered from before…before.

“You,” Anakin repeated. “You’re all wrong. And _I’m_ …”

Anakin searched Obi-Wan’s face. He found even in the ghostly light around him, the flicker of blue-grey-green eyes that Anakin remembered had followed him for years and years.

“You should hate me,” Anakin said at last. His voice caught—he hated that it did, but it caught, and he stood up, stumbling a step away from Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan just stared at him, his hand reaching for Anakin. Resting on Anakin’s shoulder, and Anakin flinched. “I don’t hate you.”

“You _should_.”

“Anakin—”

“No,” Anakin said, pulling away from Obi-Wan’s grip. He turned around. “Why don’t you hate me? After _everything_ —”

“Anakin, _stop_.” Obi-Wan took hold of Anakin’s wrist. His hand was warmer than Anakin thought it would be—actually, Anakin realized with a start, he hadn’t thought that Obi-Wan’s hand would be warm at all, because they were both _dead_ , and did ghosts even generate heat anyways—

And there was something else, too. Anakin could actually _feel_ Obi-Wan’s hand. He could feel something that he hadn’t felt in a long time, and Anakin’s head started to shatter because _when was the last time someone ever touched him, anyways_ —

Anakin looked down at where Obi-Wan’s hand was wrapped around his. Holding his.

“Stop,” Obi-Wan repeated, this time quieter.

“I can’t,” Anakin said. He dropped his head, wanted to drop to his knees again, and he realized that it must have showed, because Obi-Wan rested his other hand on Anakin’s shoulder again. Steadied him, and the two of them sank to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Anakin said. “I’m so…” He bowed his head, found Obi-Wan’s hand still wrapped around his wrist. He didn’t know whether he wanted to tear it out again or if he wanted him to stay. Wanted themselves to stay, right there in the darkness, where the lights around them still faded in and out around them not-like but like-stars.

Obi-Wan didn’t say anything for a while, and Anakin didn’t expect him to.

They sat together, Anakin listening to Obi-Wan’s breaths—actual breaths, he realized. Breaths that were in sync with his own.

“I’m sorry,” Anakin repeated. “For—all of it. Everything I’ve done—everyone I’ve ever hurt—every life I’ve _ruined_ —I _ruined so many_ , Obi-Wan—I ruined _yours_ , I ruined _hers_ , I ruined _theirs_ …I ruined _theirs_ …” He shook his head. “I can’t—if I go there, I’ll just—ruin things again.”

“You won’t,” Obi-Wan said.

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan. He looked for an answer that he didn’t find. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” Obi-Wan replied. He smiled, and the warmth in his hands must have transferred to Anakin’s eyes, because he felt tears start. Anakin blinked, looked down.

“I know _you_ ,” Obi-Wan said. “Every part of you.”

“And I _know_ ,” Obi-Wan continued, squeezing Anakin’s wrist, “that you can come back.”

“You can’t just—”

“I can,” Obi-Wan replied. “Anakin. This is me saying that I can and that _you_ can.”

Anakin just looked at where their hands were.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin began.

“Anakin.”

“I…” Anakin lifted his head slowly. He found Obi-Wan’s face again, and he kept thinking that it would change, but it didn’t—not this time. “Why don’t you hate me? Before—you didn’t answer…”

“Do you think I should hate you?”

Anakin let out a short laugh. “ _Yes_.”

“Well,” Obi-Wan said. “Then I suppose I’ll just have to prove you wrong again, won’t I?”

“All that time—”

“—I never hated you,” Obi-Wan finished. “Not once.”

“But you—I _killed_ you,” Anakin said. He stared at Obi-Wan, his chest growing tighter by the second.

Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment. “Well, yes,” he said. “I suppose you did.”

“ _Suppose_?”

“You did,” Obi-Wan corrected. “You _did_ kill me, but…” The expression on his face turned contemplative. “It was time for that door to close. For me to enter through this one.” He paused. “And in the end, I think Master Yoda wound up being the better teacher than myself, anyways…”

“You would have been a great teacher,” Anakin managed.

Obi-Wan smiled briefly. “Thank you,” he said.

Anakin didn’t respond. He just looked to the light with Obi-Wan. He rubbed a hand over his face.

“But just to answer your question,” Obi-Wan said, still looking into the light. “I don’t think I could hate you even if I tried.” He looked at Anakin, his expression softening. “I think I’ve seen enough of the galaxy to know that the hate wouldn’t get me anywhere. It just forces people into places they shouldn’t be.”

The lights above them flickered.

“Yeah,” Anakin said after a while. Quietly. “I know.”

“I know you do,” Obi-Wan replied. He looked at Anakin. “You’re here, aren’t you?” He paused. “Or almost here.”

Anakin looked at the light again. “What _is_ here?” he asked at last. “If I’m dead now….and you’re dead now—”

“Not quite sure,” Obi-Wan replied. He looked at the sky, at the ground around them. “But I like to think of this place as a kind o waiting room. You sit and wait, and…there are others who are sometimes more aware of how to pull you into these kinds of things.”

“And you…”

“Volunteered,” Obi-Wan replied. He looked at Anakin. “I thought it was only fitting.”

Anakin’s throat dried. “You volunteered.”

“I told you,” Obi-Wan said. “I didn’t hate you. I don’t hate you.”

Anakin swallowed. “Obi-Wan…”

“Yes?”

Anakin swallowed roughly. “I didn’t…I _really_ don’t deserve that.”

“Oh, _Anakin_ ,” Obi-Wan said, his expression turning both amused and sad. He reached with his other hand, squeezed Anakin’s arm. “Did you think you have a choice in the matter?”

“From the way you’re talking now…”

“You don’t,” Obi-Wan said. “That’s what I mean.” He nodded once to Anakin. “I’m afraid you’ll only have to take my word for this one.”

Anakin’s eyes warmed. He swiped at his face again, and he heard Obi-Wan’s quiet sigh in return.

Anakin wasn’t sure who actually moved first after that: whether it was Anakin who leaned into Obi-Wan or Obi-Wan leaned into Anakin, they would have to discover and fight about their conclusions later. But right now, Anakin dropped his head onto Obi-Wan’s shoulder, was surprised by how secure and stable it was. He felt a warm hand wrap around his shoulders, and when Anakin’s tears finally came, the lights above seemed to glow a little brighter.

“I’m sorry,” Anakin repeated, grasping Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “I’m _sorry_.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan said. His voice was quiet, his hand steady against Anakin’s back. “I’ve always known.”

Anakin felt the steady pats at his back, felt Obi-Wan’s chin rest on top his head a moment later.

The lights kept glowing.

\--

They stayed there like that for some time—two bright stars glowing in the dark, flickering only a few times before growing stronger and brighter than all the rest. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you [to this anon](https://katierosefun.tumblr.com/post/642474551422369792/right-so-here-i-am-again-with-the-haunting-of-hill) for giving me the inspiration to write this fic!
> 
> as always, comments/kudos are greatly appreciated!
> 
> drop by my [tumblr to say hi/scream/chat!](https://katierosefun.tumblr.com/)


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